experiment.
Her daughters, targets now.
And their daughters. All down in that morgue.
That's what I think, anyway.
- No mention of offspring in the documents.
- There wouldn't be.
Maybe they're all sisters.
The women and the girls.
Grillflame stopped six years
before they were conceived.
- Maybe it didn't. Maybe it went underground.
- Underground? Where?
It's not a question of where, but why.
Why kill them now?
Tower,
Fans,
You said her daughter was
having a seizure in the hospital.
I can show you the tape.
Fans,
Vent,
Flowers,
She's remote-viewing from the hospital.
Viewing what?
- Who does she think she's talking to?
- 512. Where is she now?
Mother? Are you all right?
Square,
"Square"? "Swear"?
I still can't hear it.
Sq... square.
Square.
Square?
Square.
I'll go over these.
I've contacted SRI. They said they needed
at least 20 words from a remote viewer
before trying to pin down what
they were describing. We've got eight words,
followed by 100mg of phenobarbital.
Assuming this leads us anywhere
in the first place.
Mildred Carson, in her 40s, childless,
needed ajob. Her family was taken from her.
- Soon to be childless again.
- You think they're after her now?
Even if she is still alive,
who could she possibly hurt?
Something we're missing.
How many bodies ID'd from
the plane crash?
Last I saw, all but three or four.
This woman appeared on the passenger
manifest, should be travelling with a child.
Where is she? The little girl?
- They haven't found her yet.
- They never will. She's alive.
- No one could have survived.
- They took her off the plane.
These women hunted to extinction
have done a horrible thing.
They brought that plane down, sacrificing two
of their own to fake a death to save a child.
It's a smoke screen.
The little girl, the old lady, 512.
They're all that's left.
But who is doing this to them?
You still haven't told me who.
I'm cross-tabulating the words from the tape
with words in remote-viewing sessions.
It'll tell us targets described before.
I've sorted the targets by how well
they match up with words on the tape.
The words the woman in the
hospital used.
"Round. " "Square. " "Six. " "Two. " I matched
them against real military installations.
- What about this?
- "Missile Silo"?
Yeah. It makes sense.
Most are abandoned real estate. You could
do worse if you were... trying to disappear.
Missile Silo would be a great fit,
except... no "wings".
There is a searchable database of satellite
imagery of defunct military installations.
All right.
Switching.
If I can narrow it down to silos,
then eight words should be plenty.
- What's this?
- Locked out. Someone is using the records.
The Millennium Group.
That's who you think is doing all this,
isn't it?
Look at that.
"162." That's what she was saying.
They know where she is.
If the woman in the hospital wanted us
to know about this, why didn't she just say:
"We're meeting at MX-162. Check it out"?
They didn't know where they were going.
She was seeing it.
Before it happened?
- We're not going in without backup.
- Too late.
Frank, it's basic procedure.
- We'll run a serpentine cross. Cover me.
- No weapon. Bureau procedure.
Huh.
Now cover me.
You know, she wanted to be seen. She's
trying to draw us away from the old woman.
Let's split up. I'm gonna go left.
Stop! FBI.
Stop!
They're here to kill us.
Stop! FBI.
FBI. Drop your weapons.
I said drop them now!
- All I saw was a gun. I thought you'd shoot.
- Move away from your weapons. Do it!
I'm Joe Howe, Millennium Group.
Ex-Bureau.
We're on the same side here.
Snap 'em on.
Down on the floor. There.
Both of you. Use the pipes.
I wanna hear the click.
- Will you wait here until I get the others?
- Come on. Let's go.
Get back.
Oh, God!
Why does the Group want you dead?
What have you seen?
I need an answer.
The men who built this place
thought they could control the world
because they had